Drawn upon beds of forgotten netting—golden claws
halved by sleep—a little one wakes for water.
A king in yellow allows it—how he loves her.
Water under the earth—of never there—trickles up a sun-colored line of leaves from
dreaming to a silver city, from Prospero’s mind to a well forgotten in shade.
A perfect and small mouth quietly tastes the greening line’s infinity.
Rekindled sleep—ever-involuting truth—runs down her chin
on her way back to bed:
A stirring rest on catching wealth—how her fancy tricks him.
(Illustration above: Monster Girl, watercolor and ink on paper)